All Hands
by Nicoccia
Summary: A collection of shorts featuring our favorite, lesser-focused on characters. *OC pairings, potential AU* Doomtree/Dessa music inspirations.
1. Ingenium: Align with Your Horizons

**Doomtree - "Heavy Rescue"**

_"White caps break above us but at the bottom, it stays calm_

_Just the rising tides can touch us, _

_Just lift you up and set you down."_

* * *

"I would understand, you know."

Chinami frowned but didn't turn around. She was unrolling and unfolding and refolding Tensei's clothes. It was an entirely bitter task on her part; for her to have been up half the night before, going through Tensei's things and packing what she deemed the most practical, was draining on too many levels. And now she was in the Iida's home, moving her boyfriend back into the care of his family, his mother. _Not_ her – he was going to be so far from _her_.

But it was for the best. It's what they'd all agreed on. Sharing a fifth floor apartment in a building without an elevator wouldn't work out well for a guy in a wheelchair.

Chinami knew it was for the best. Physically, Tensei would either be stuck inside or stuck outside of their place at practically all times. They wouldn't be able to upgrade a rented apartment to accommodate the new assistance Tensei would need either. She'd looked into it. He would need lowered counter tops and more easily accessible appliances; special toilet and bathroom fixtures; mechanisms to help him get in and out of bed and the shower; ramps or ride-ons in place of any stairs. The list just went on, really. There was nothing available that even began to meet their match.

The most logical thing would be trying to buy a cheap house and invest in installing everything he would need there, but that was talk to have on another day.

Today, Chinami had to accept that she and Tensei weren't living together anymore.

Chinami finished creasing the shirt she'd just unpacked before half-glancing at Tensei. "What are you talking about?"

She had a feeling what it was. She just wanted him to be the one to say it.

Tensei sat upright, his lips pulled up at the corners. He wasn't the type to fiddle with nerves or show any sheepishness. "If this ends up being too much for you, I would understand. It would be okay."

'_It would be okay if you broke up with me_,' Chinami thought, using Tensei's voice. '_It's what everyone's expecting anyway_.'

Chinami continued to lay out Tensei's clothes, appearing unfazed. Inwardly, she was raging.

She knew what the world must have been thinking. She and Tensei had only been dating a little more than two years, and they'd only just moved in together less than a year before. His family hadn't completely approved of it but there wasn't anything they could do – he'd been 29 at the time. She'd been 25. It wasn't a huge age gap but considering Tensei was a well-respected Hero and Chinami was just a retail worker, the salary and notoriety gap between them was pretty stark. Obviously, Chinami realized, she looked a little bit like a gold digger.

Tensei did pay for most things. He paid their rent and their electric bill and for 98% of their dates. Chinami only covered the cable/Internet package, groceries, and occasional breakfast outings. But it wasn't like that didn't bother her. She'd always felt like she wasn't pulling her weight and she definitely didn't like it. Yet Tensei never minded. It had never mattered to him.

With Tensei was moving out, though, Chinami knew she wouldn't be able to last – financially – more than a few months on her own. She was trying not to think about that part. She'd told Tensei she'd be fine, and assured both of their families that she could handle herself.

But she couldn't. She couldn't even take care of herself so how the hell would she ever take care of Tensei in the future?

That was the reality.

Chinami let her shoulder slump once she'd finished piling Tensei's socks. "Don't you think it's too soon to start talking like that?"

'_Do you think that little of me too?_'

"We had plans," Tensei reminded her. Maybe he was reminding them both. "We've talked about getting married, maybe having kids. Things are going to be different now."

Despite herself, Chinami let a smirk creep onto her lips. "All you've ever had to do was watch me to walk down the aisle. And you know I like being on top. Sex won't be a challenge."

Tensei's calm smile turned more somber, even if Chinami didn't turn to see it. "I asked the doctor about that. The kids part – it would probably be a lot more complicated than either one of us was thinking. Ejaculation isn't very common for men with spinal cord injuries like mine."

The words were like a static shock to Chinami. They stung, acutely, but her outward reaction was minimal.

"Even better then," she responded on impulse. She didn't want to hesitate for too long and let him in on her panic. "We won't have to worry so much about contraception, and we wont have pregnancy scares again. It would just be a blessing."

Did her voice sound as tight and hoarse as it felt? Chinami was sure that Tensei would see through her coolness but what else was she supposed to do? She had to lie. She had to pretend that it was all okay. It would all _be okay_.

Tensei's hands found the wheels of his chair and he advanced forward. "Chi, I don't mean to upset you. I'm only being honest. This isn't the life you wanted. You deserve to live to the fullest."

"So did you."

Chinami whipped her head around, finally facing Tensei. He halted under her gaze. He wasn't sure what to call her expression but the image of a caged or cornered animal came to mind.

"You deserve more, too," Chinami stressed. She took in a deep breath, obviously pulling herself back into check before she went on. "I don't _want_ to leave you. I'm _not_ worried about how much things will change, or what anyone will think. It's just planning for everything we'll have to go through that's bothering me. I don't know how I'll do it all but I know that I _have to_ do it."

Chinami didn't consider herself a particularly sensitive person, so the stinging in her eyes only frustrated her even more and caused some actual crying. She hung her head and counted slowly to calm down.

"Ten," she spoke once she'd regained enough of her backbone – _she needed to have enough of a backbone for both of them_. "Ten, I just feel like we're less compatible together after this. I know your family doesn't think I'm good enough for you. I don't think that I am either. I can't support you right now. I swear I'll try my damnedest but I still don't know that I can get you everything you're going to need from here on out. I don't make the money we'll need. I can get a new job but then I'll just work even more and be around so much less and that barely seems worth it…"

The last thing Chinami wanted to do was look up. Between the few stupid, stubborn tears that slipped down her face (they'd even had the nerve to act graceful as they fell) and the shame she felt from confessing her fears to Tensei, looking up seemed like accepting some kind of a sentence.

Tensei waited a moment before he rolled closer to Chinami. He reached up, trailing the back of his nails over her arm and her side, letting his fingers splay out at the bottom of her waist as a resting point.

"I have plenty of money saved," Tensei said softly, rubbing his thumb into Chinami's hip, "and it's not like I'll never work again. It's not all up to you. We can still be in this together, if you're willing to stick it out with me."

Chinami's eyes drifted over her shoulder. Tensei was there, giving her his most signature, sincere gaze. And all at once, like a wave, Chinami was hit with the fact that she loved the man more than anything. She'd made the choice to be with him a long time ago and she was making that choice again every day, in every way, regardless of whatever difficulties or frustrations they faced. That was what love was, wasn't it?

It was a decision, a promise – _for richer or poorer_ and all of those other clichés.

Chinami's eyes burned again but she ignored them. She shifted so that she was fully facing Tensei for the first time that day, her wrist drifting towards his chair so that she could follow it to Tensei's shoulder, and then to the junction of his neck. She wasn't trying to read his pulse but somehow she felt more connected to him with her hand there, as if she could feel him better. She _could_ feel his heartbeat, and she liked to think those beats were for her, in some way.

She hoped that he loved her as much as she loved him, and that it would all be enough in the end.

"Of course," Chinami vowed. She started massaging Tensei's shoulder subconsciously. "I'm in this with you, for the win."

_Forever._


	2. Aizawa: Good for You

**Dessa - "Good for You"**

_"I don't bring this up lightly:_

_Don't you think that I might be_

_Someone you can't forget?"_

* * *

Hizashi and Hisako Yamada were as different as night and day.

Hizashi was needlessly loud and irrationally eccentric. It was a wonder how he and Shota had become and remained friends.

Hisako was quiet and understated. Shota hadn't even known she existed until his high school graduation. Granted, Hisako hadn't attended U.A. and she'd blended into the background the few times Shota had visited the Yamadas' as a student. Shota blamed Hizashi for that; why did he always have to be so damned _obnoxious_?

It wasn't until the U.A. graduation ceremony that Shota really noticed Hisako. She was older then – still two years younger than he and her brother, but becoming a woman in her own right – and she'd dressed in a semi-formal yukata. Maybe it was her modesty that finally caught his attention, but he suspected that half of it was just how _tolerable_ she'd seemed compared to Hizashi.

The feelings progressed after U.A. Hizashi was a predictably over-bearing big brother so Hisako got dragged along more and more during casual outings, as Hizashi appointed himself as her "guardian" once she'd started getting male attention. Shota would have preferred not to participate in socializing at all but at least having Hisako there made him feel a little more grounded. She was the only other sane one, he was sure.

They didn't fall in love suddenly or dramatically. They just fell into their relationship simply. It'd started when Hisako was a senior and Shota an up-and-coming Pro, and she'd asked him to bring her to her school's closing celebration. Shota had been stumped but accepted. He would have hated the entire experience of being an escort if it hadn't been with Hisako, and if she hadn't been so obviously beaming by his side the entire night.

So they began spending more time together. Shota hadn't minded it, and he eventually came to crave it. Hisako had the best characteristics of her brother while being everything that he wasn't: she was keen, loyal, and good-hearted, yet subdued and gentle and subliminal with a lot of her communication. She was one of the easiest people to spend time with.

Somehow they moved in together. That progression was still a mystery to Shota. Hisako spent a lot of time at his place, sure, once she graduated for herself and needed to get out of her parents' and brother's hold. Shota's schedule was odd anyway so they were rarely home at the same time. Hisako slept on the couch at first, but Shota's pillows took on a floral scent as the months went by. It became a comfort to him, to the point where he eventually put away his spare bedding and wordlessly invited Hisako to borrow his bed when he wasn't there.

And then he wordlessly invited Hisako to share his bed when he was there.

Years later, Shota was home without Hisako, feeling completely lost as he looked down at their fussing daughter and wishing he'd been more present all along.

The guilt got to him sometimes, especially when he wasn't working and was reminded of everything Hisako did for him. They barely spent any time together, for one. She took care of the house and their child and him. She cooked and cleaned every day, prepared his meals only to package them for whenever he happened to be around to eat. She still managed to work part-time, too, to help out with income and keep her mind more occupied.

Hisako was a good girl – a good woman, in Shota's eyes. She should have been swept off her feet. She should have had a grand wedding. They'd just gotten married in the courthouse after they'd realized he'd knocked her up. She'd been beautiful and happy during their vows, and even Hizashi had balled his eyes out about how _perfectly_ things had progressed, yet Shota always had something biting at the back of his mind.

Their daughter, Shiawase, was nearly four months old. Shota was in awe of her every day. It was still bizarre, in the most fantastic way, that the tiny infant shared his DNA. He'd helped _create_ her. She was a part of him. Despite any and every of his doubts and regrets Shiawase would always be his pride and joy and –

Shiawase let out a sudden shriek that shook the walls. One of the framed photos Hisako had hung up fell to the floor and shattered.

Shota scowled, his ears ringing. His daughter was perfect, of course, but she'd inherited a Quirk too close to her uncle's for comfort.

It was like an answered prayer when Hisako walked in.

Shota was holding Shiawase, cupping the back of her head so that her face was pressed into his shoulder, hoping beyond hope that the contact would bring her comfort and not escalate a tantrum. His eyes darted to Hisako, probably looking half desperate, and she responded by dropping her bag to the floor and rushing over.

"Shoosh, Shia," Hisako murmured, taking the baby from Shota's arms and tucking the infant under her chin. Shota didn't think he was just crazy for imagining Shiawase instantly melting into her mother.

Shota watched the two of them. Hisako was a complete natural, unlike him, in nurturing and easing their daughter's discomfort. It had been her first night out with friends in months, yet she was back after only a couple of hours and ready to take over.

Women were amazing, Shota realized. _His woman_ was amazing. He had to wonder what he'd ever done to deserve her and the life that she'd given him, along with all of the things that she handled with barely any gratitude in return.

Shota definitely needed to work on the "gratitude in return" part. Maybe he could ask Hizashi what his sister would like as an anniversary gift? No – Nemuri?

…Maybe his students would have some insight?

Shota blinked back into the moment. Hisako was humming Shiawase to sleep, and he'd nearly dozed off simply as a witness.

Hisako seemed pleased enough by Shiawase's state and eased the babe into the living room crib. Once she was sure that the infant would sleep, Hisako turned to Shota, a lopsided smile on her lips, and beckoned a hand.

"Shall I tuck you in too, Shota?"

Shota scoffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and shuffling his feet. He was used to working overnights but the baby had definitely interrupted his schedule. How could he complain, though, when Hisako did almost all of _that_ work? He shouldn't have felt half as exhausted as she must have been.

Still, Shota was tired. So if Hisako was offering…

"Fine."

Shota didn't take Hisako's hand, but he gave a silent indication for her to follow him to the bedroom. She did, and she waited off to the side as Shota stripped before crawling into bed nude. Shota buried himself under the covers, anticipating Hisako's advancement once she knew he was settled in. When Hisako did venture closer and move to adjust the blankets, Shota reached over to grasp her wrist.

"You need sleep, too," Shota said, his eyes still closed and mouth half pressed into his pillow. "Shia is fine, take a rest with me."

Hisako didn't move right away. She seemed to debate her options, which made Shota slightly annoyed and culpable all at once, but then Hisako did slowly pull down her pants, take off her blouse, and crawl into bed with Shota wearing little more than her skin.

Shota wrapped his arms around Hisako, relishing in her body being pressed against his. How could he ever convey how their connection made him feel with only words?

Hisako hadn't lost all of her pregnancy weight, and Shota knew that she wasn't as comfortable with herself as she used to be. It seemed crazy to him. Hisako had carried a child, delivered a daughter, and continued to provide for that baby in ways that Shota would never be able to help her with. So what if there were some extra pounds? Motherhood was an infinitely fantastic process that Shota was humbled to witness personally.

Shota hated how little of an impact he realized he could have with his wife and daughter. Hisako was literally the most gorgeous thing he had ever laid eyes on, because she was the one to incubate and give him his daughter. How could he ever measure up as a husband and father in comparison?

All that Shota could do was hug Hisako closer, nuzzling his nose into her neck, praying to a god that he didn't completely believe in that she would somehow understand that she meant everything to him.

Hisako was everything to him. Shiawase was his everything. And Hizashi, as much of a nuisance as he was, was not only his best friend but also the one to bring together all purpose into Shota's life.

And Shota couldn't have asked for anything more.

* * *

**(A/N)**

**This one was originally supposed to be of a more CRACK! fic with the idea of President Mic's timid sis and Aizawa getting together and having a loud baby. It ventured off a lot from that. But I still like the more serious turn, I think?**

**Also I wrote and published this all within a couple hours (while maybe just **_slightly_** tipsy...) so hopefully it doesn't seem too rough. :)**


	3. Kirishima: Mineshaft

**Dessa - "Mineshaft"**

_"And if we've come a long way then I suspect it's sideways, _

_further from our origin. No closer to our destination._

_..._

_And when I lost you, I lost some good love and a hand to bite."_

* * *

Brats.

That's what they were. All of them.

Homura grit her teeth, staring ahead determinedly. Of course some of those 1-A newbies would be behind her in the lunch queue. They were loud. How could they only be a year younger than her? They all acted so childish.

_What brats_.

The school had been abuzz when news of All Might joining on as a teacher had spread, but the top Hero only seemed interested in the freshmen. Homura had barely seen All Might around campus yet the semester was nearly half over. Foundational Hero Studies was a regular course but apparently All Might only made extra appearances when it suited him – and the first years _definitely_ got his preferential treatment.

Homura crossed her arms across her ribs, hugging herself tightly.

What made 1-A so special? Was it just because they were the best of the youngest? Shouldn't All Might be focusing more on the seniors, who were closer to graduating and becoming Heroes themselves?

Homura had worked hard. She'd only scraped by in the initial Entrance Exams, barely grasping a place in Class 1-B. Her debut at the Sports Festival hadn't been all that impressive either but she'd been lucky enough to snag workplace training with Edgeshot's agency – even if she'd never actually gotten to meet _that_ Hero for herself either.

Still, Edgeshot's side-kicks offered enough advice and training to boost Homura forward with her skillset. As a second year, she was able to cling onto the _second to last_ – as in not the last! – spot in Class 2-A, bumping out one of the lazier students who hadn't applied themselves enough.

Maybe it was a personal gripe, then, that made Homura look down on Class 1-A. From her perspective those kids were all full of hubris, thinking they were already famous for being top placement. Yet really, they hadn't proved anything. They had no right to think they were any better than the rest of the school, or to not take their training and studies seriously. Most of the time they only got their ranking _by fluke_. Time would tell how long they would actually last.

Homura shifted, overly aware of the boys blabbering away behind her.

Of course, as if it were inevitable, one of them bumped into her a second later.

Even if she only stumbled half a step, Homura felt an inadequate surge of rage rip through her.

Homura glanced over her shoulder, sending the boys a searing glare. Most of them wilted, clearly not expecting such an extreme reaction, but there was one who seemed completely unfazed.

"Sorry about that," the red-head said. He was a couple places in line behind her, making it obvious that he hadn't been the one to bump her to begin with. "We weren't paying attention. You aren't hurt, are you?"

A snort shot out of Homura's nose. As if a casual jab like that could hurt her.

Rather than respond, Homura eyed the group. She only very vaguely recognized any of them. She'd watched their sports Festival but hadn't exactly taken notes or been overly interested. Ever since the USJ Incident, Class 1-A had been in the lime light; they were renowned only for _not dying_.

How lame.

Still, Homura recognized a few of the faces. The red-head that addressed her, for one, had made it pretty far in the finals. She remembered watching him fight but linking the boy to his Quirk and performance didn't come as easily.

'_Oh yeah_,' Homura thought once her memory clicked. '_He's the one who gets hard._'

As quickly as the phrase had passed behind her eyes the double meaning also hit her, and Homura couldn't help but glance down at the boy's groin.

Flushing, Homura jerked forward, dabbing at the tiny trail of wetness that she suddenly felt falling on her upper lip.

"Whoa, is her nose bleeding? I barely brushed her though…"

"She's gotta be a second year or senior, right? I don't recognize her."

"Maybe she's not in a Hero course?"

"I'm in Class 2-A!" Homura hurried to correct, spinning on her heel to face the boys. Her cheeks were hot again, partly due to the rush of emotion and in part because, to make the situation worse, her voice had cracked and made the statement sound like a squeal.

"Oh, so you're our senpai then," the red-head acknowledged. He didn't seem bothered by Homura's scowl. "I'm sure that shove couldn't have bothered you but are you okay otherwise?"

"I'm fine," Homura ground out. As much as she wanted to turn away again, she forced herself to look over each of the boys in turn. There was a taller, gangly one with a weird mouth; a twitchy-looking blonde trying too hard to look cool; and one that probably could have passed as an elementary student, being only half as tall as everyone else.

Nothing about them was impressive.

"Uh… _what's with that look_?"

"Yeah, she seems way too intense."

Homura lessened her sneer once their whispers met her ears. Then, she promptly turned away in dismissal. Those _kohai_ really weren't worth her attention.

The icebergs that Homura left the boys behind her stuck in were almost palpable.

Homura could hear them hissing to each other again but didn't bother listening in.

_They weren't worth her time. _

* * *

"Hey, senpai!"

Homura, despite being in a relatively good mood, frowned as she glanced back in the direction of the voice. It was the red-haired freshman from a few days ago, and she was severely irked to note that he was obviously addressing her.

It was lunch period again, so the accosting was all the more inconvenient. There was less than an hour of meal break between classes and Homura was extremely unwilling to waste any of that time on younger students.

Most people would have gotten the message Homura was sending with her pointedly blank "bitch face".

The ginger didn't.

"You seemed upset the other day so I wanted to make sure you were okay," the boy explained. He had pointed shark-like teeth. It should have been off-putting but his eyes were kind.

Homura didn't change her expression at all; if anything, she tried to look meaner. "I'm fine," she said, keeping her answer short. It should have delivered another clear tone of "_leave me alone_" but the boy only brushed it away.

"Great! Here, cut ahead of me." He motioned Homura over. He'd stopped her on her way into line and had been the first to notice it building up as they spoke. Grudgingly, Homura accepted his offer and silently thanked him for it.

Homura only had a couple of seconds to hope that he wouldn't keep talking before he kept talking.

"So anyway, what year are you in?"

"Second."

"Oh yeah, you did say you were in Class 2-A,right? That's cool! You must have learned a lot so far. I still have a long way to go."

It was that hint of humility that made Homura appraise the boy over her shoulder.

"What's your name?" she asked. She planned on looking him up later and re-watching his stint in the Sports Festival.

The boy appeared briefly surprised before he grinned. "Eijiro Kirishima."

Homura nodded and turned away. There was a blessed period of silence between them before Kirishima piped up again.

"So, if we're introducing ourselves… can I get your name, too?"

Homura scowled and debated her options. The kid was, granted, one of the Class 1-A jerks. But she somehow didn't want to pummel him as much as she would have expected.

"Kin Homura."

"Nice to meet you!"

Kirishima seemed adept enough to keep his lips shut after that. Homura was bored enough to wonder where the rest of his friends were while the two wadded through the line.

Homura reached the food first, obviously, and she chose her second-preferred option (mentaiko) over one of her favorite dishes (donburi) simply because Lunch Rush and his assistants were still hustling to refill the donburi section; there was only one prepared plate left. Homura made sure to watch Kirishima from the corner of her eye.

The bastard passed right by the donburi and grabbed some basic ramen.

Homura decided right then that she did, in fact, hate Eijiro Kirishima. That mentality was only solidified once the two were exiting the line and heading off to eat.

"You ate alone the last time I saw you," Kirishima said, referring to the other day when they'd unofficially met. He said it so simply yet the observation made Homura bristle in defense. "Do you want to eat with my friends and me today?"

Homura could have killed him on the spot. Did he think she was some kind of loser? Did he think she _needed_ him or might _want_ his attention?

If he did, he could get over those dramatics _real fast_.

"Not a chance," Homura threw over her shoulder as she stalked off to one of the very few empty tables she managed to spot in the cafeteria. She plopped herself down, began slurping up her semi-satisfying food, and blocked out any nearby students with stark determination.

* * *

Eijiro Kirishima became an annoying anomaly in Homura's life. He didn't seem to seek her out, per say, but if they were within eyesight of each other Kirishima was always sure to greet her. Mood depending, Homura would respond with either a genial glance or feigned ignorance.

There was one particular day in which Homura got stuck trying to speak to President Mic after class and arrived at lunch break late. The queue had been short but despite getting her food at record speed, Homura was left with no empty place to sit.

Kirishima and his friends had been the closest ones with any available space.

Homura very purposefully (and tactfully) sild her tray over an empty chair and slipped into a seat, coaxing herself with the possibility that no one would recognize her being there at all.

"Who the hell are you?"

It was the boy closest to Homura who had spoken, almost immediately. She wouldn't have even acknowledged him if his tone hadn't been so full of distain; the jerk needed to be put in his place.

"Class 2-A, Kin Homura. Who the hell are _you_?"

Homura knew who he was right away, though. The blonde had been the one to win the freshman's Sports Festival. He'd been brash during his battles but downright vicious at the closing ceremony; the teachers had needed to muzzle him like a wild dog.

Homura couldn't help but panic about what she'd just gotten herself into.

"Homura-senpai!" Kirishima saved the day, calling down from the other end of the table. Homura eagerly turned her attention to the friendly face. "I haven't seen you in a while. Why don't you move closer?"

Kirishima undoubtedly meant that Homura shouldn't be sitting at the very end of the table. Homura hadn't wanted to sit in their vicinity _at all_, yet the irritable blonde only two seats away from her was more of a concern than she would have ever admitted.

Kirishima's offer appealed to Homura enough that she passed her food tray over to the "too cool" guy from her first meeting with the freshmen and moved over to the spot next to him. The lightening-bolt blonde, in response, sent her a cheesy smile.

"An older woman, huh?" he said as if he were trying to melodize a mating call. Homura sent him a murderous glower, which made him blanch.

What a pathetic _Hero._

"Kirishima said that you were Class 2-A?" Homura's eyes darted to the voice; it was the lanky one with dark hair speaking. "I'm curious – do things get less intense around here once you pass the initial hurdles?"

The dark-haired boy was probably only trying to ease the tension. Homura realized that. Yet the question made her sneer with her response.

"If you think this _school_ is too _intense_, you ought to consider a different career. Maybe selling wrinkly ex-wives overpriced perfume?"

After that, with half of the table bent over in defeat, Homura felt satisfied and dug into her meal. There wasn't much time left in break, after all.

* * *

"Homura-senpai!"

The addressed girl nearly quivered. Eijiro Kirishima was such a bug.

Kirishima caught up to Homura. They were almost outside of the gates, heading for their transportation home.

"Do you mind me asking what your grades are like?" Kirishima questioned. Homura nearly stumbled at the audacity. "Testing is coming up. A bunch of us are forming study groups but I figured if you'd already passed everything you might be the better one to ask."

Not for the first time, Homura weighed her options. She wasn't qualified to be a tutor; she'd never taught anyone anything.

But for some Class 1-A kid to be asking _her_ for help, well…

"I am more advanced than you," Homura hummed, her chin ticked upwards. "You're smart to ask me."

Kirishima beamed. "Awesome! Can we exchange numbers and plan to meet?"

Homura handed her phone over without thinking much of it. The experience was a little awkward for her but it wasn't until later, when she was on her train home, when some troubling thoughts hit her.

Kirishima wasn't trying to _ask her out_, was he?

How did guys even ask out girls? Like, in reality?

Homura didn't have any experience.

Why did the idea of a date make her more stressed out than mid-terms did?

Kirishima was _cute_, wasn't he? Homura tolerated him pretty well, anyway.

…And, okay, the first time they'd met she'd already been thinking about his dick.

But did that really _mean_ anything?

* * *

It wasn't a date at all. Bakugo was there. If ever there was a cock-blocker, it was Bakugo.

Homura had been put-out at first but after some interaction she was stuck somewhere between having fun and wanting to murder both of her juniors.

They were in a casual diner, just snacking while studying, but to be honest Homura wanted a whole burger. Without the likelihood of a gentleman paying for her meal, though, she settled on the sides they'd all decided on sharing together.

Homura had been wary of Bakugo to begin with but after reading Kirishima's banter with the other boy she managed to ease up.

…For about twenty minutes.

"WHY DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THIS?!"

"Shut up and look in a mirror! You're the worst explainer in history!"

"The fuck?!" Bakugo's wide, white eyes went from Kirishima (who he'd been hitting upside the head with their paper-back booklet) over to Homura, who'd jumped to defend the latter. "You haven't given us any insight this entire time, Snorlax. Why are you even here?!"

In an instant, the comfortable understanding that Homura had felt with Bakugo vanished. _Snorlax_? As in Kabigon: the over-weight, ever-sleeping _Pokémon_ _character_?

It was stupid and sensitive and so _girlish_ of her, but Homura still couldn't take the insult with any kind of grace. She pushed Kirishima out of the way, who she'd been sitting next to, stumbling out of the booth and then over the table to sweep up her books.

"As if you had better options, you prick," Homoura hissed as she collected herself and her things. "Did you ever stop to wonder why practically _nobody_ wanted to study with you?"

Homura only waited for one pointed moment before twisting around and heading out the door. She had enough time to pat herself on the back for her deliverance before she realized that she hadn't left any money for the bill.

Oh, well. The boys could either cover it silently or she would talk to Kirishima eventually.

Well that, or Kirishima could come running after her right away.

Homura jolted when Kirshima snatched her shoulder. She mentally tried to tally how much cash she had on hand (it wasn't much). Kirishima didn't appear to follow her for her money, though, giving out one solid puff of air before twisting his lips.

"Sorry about him," Kirishima breathed. The subliminal mention of Bakugo made Homura seethe all over again. "He really doesn't mean it as bad as it seems. He's a manly guy and all but he takes some getting used to."

Homura didn't even bother scoffing. What good did an apology mean if it wasn't even coming from the one who'd been rude?

Still, Kirishima was holding her arm, looking at her so imploringly that Homura couldn't help but melt.

_For about a single second_.

"Fine. But I'm done for today," Homura grumbled. She ripped out of Kirishima's hold and went on with her trajectory away. "Text me or whatever. We'll try again."

"Will do, see you!"

Homura kept walking. Kirishima must have gone back to Bakugo after the exchange. Why had he even bothered following her out? Why had she ever given that dopey guy her number? He was such a freak.

Despite those thoughts Homura waited up that night, glancing at her phone way more often then was normal, only half daring to anticipate a text.

* * *

Homura tried to convince herself that she wasn't moping for the rest of the week. Kirishima hadn't contacted her and, despite taking care to make sure she seated herself within his line of sight at lunch, he hadn't made any signs of publically noticing her.

Homura wasn't sure whether to fume or bury herself in embarrassment. It wasn't as if she _liked_ Kirishima in any extra way. He'd only ever been a nice guy. It's not like he'd talked to her because he liked _her_ or anything.

It was despicably ironic when Class 1-A was attacked again during their training camp. The news couldn't report too many specifics but Homura knew that Bakugo had been kidnapped. She didn't care too much about him but she knew that he was Kirishima's friend so she worried just a little bit.

After hours of debate, Homura sent a simple text of _"Are you okay?"_

There was never a response.

Classes resumed soon after. Bakugo had been saved but All Might had fallen. Still, the world kept spinning.

Homura saw Kirishima during lunch breaks. He didn't see her.

* * *

The League of Villains.

It was what the enemy that'd been targeting All Might and Class 1-A called themselves. It was such a witless name.

Homura wondered, though, how such powerful people had ended up on that side together. Were they rejects from the Hero world? Is that why they held a grudge against the government and politics of heroism? She could sort of relate to that, which both intrigued and scared her.

Homura wondered what her purpose really was and if she was applying herself to something fruitful in continuing her training at UA.

Could she ever be a Hero if she doubted herself that much?

To be honest, Homura was feeling more and more lost. She'd always been independent and off-putting to other people. It'd never seemed like that big of a deal for her to be alone. She'd always been okay with it. Yet recently, for some reason, she was lonely.

(Not that she was about to beg anyone for attention, of course.)

So Homura suffered in silence.

UA erected dorms that year and the students had limited access to the outside world. Maybe that had something to do with Homura feeling so stifled. There was no break from the pressures of her position. She couldn't escape anywhere to get a grip.

She hadn't ever completely related to her peers. She'd never felt comfortable in her own skin. It was always about a goal and proving something. She was never good enough, she always needed to be _better_. She didn't have companions - only competition. If she wasn't working the hardest, she wasn't working hard enough.

If she couldn't be first, then she was no better than last. _Worthless_.

Homura considered dropping out of UA. Would anyone even be disappointed? She didn't have any supporters anyway. Her parents had mostly been miffed about having to pay her tuition rather than glad to have an upstanding daughter. Her name had never been announced on TV. She was, in actuality, nobody. She was just _there_.

So what was the point? Why push herself so much when she wasn't anything likeable or special anyway? It wasn't like there were villains – or Pro Heroes, for that matter – interested in _her_. Why did she even work so hard? What was it for?

Homura had never thought she cared much about fame but maybe, all along, she'd only been looking for recognition in pursuing heroism.

_Which was pathetic_. Was she really that vain?

Homura didn't want to fail. She just didn't have the energy to keep up. Anxiety won out.

It was a remarkably numb feeling when Homura realized she would probably never be a Hero, no matter how much effort she put in. She didn't deserve to be a Hero. Nothing about her was admirable. She'd been stupid to think she could ever become great. Her mind was all messed up.

The truth hit her while she was walking through campus one day, heading to dinner. It would be her last meal at UA. She'd decided.

She would go to Hound Dog's office first thing in the morning.

* * *

Kirishima was waiting outside of Hound Dog's office. Of course he was.

Homura froze for half of a moment when she noticed him. She did her best to recover and act natural, heading towards an empty seat a few spaces away. Kirishima glanced over, barely interested at first, but he perked up when he recognized his company.

"Oh, Homura-senpai. Hey," the boy greeted. He was trying to show his usual amount of energy but Homura saw straight through the play.

"Why are you so tired?" Homura bluntly asked. She leaned back against the wall once she took her seat, crossing her ankles across one another. "Aren't you sleeping enough?"

Kirishima gave Homura a guilty smile, rubbing his fingers through his hair. "Maybe not as much as I should. That's part of why I'm here. Principal Nezu wanted us all to have at least one session with Hound Dog after everything that happened." He seemed to assume that Homura could fill in all of the blanks in his explanation. "What are you here for, Homura-senpai?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Homura blurted. Embarrassed and on the defense, she finished with, "It's none of your business."

"So you have a meeting here too," Kirishima said. "I hope it's not anything too serious you need to talk about."

'_I'm just quitting school,' _Homura thought sardonically. _'No, not that serious – nothing that would matter to _you_."_

"I'm always around, you know," Kirishima continued. "If you ever need a friend."

Homura stilled. She didn't know exactly how to react. Was he serious?

The pair was startled when Hound Dog opened his office door. Kirishima, the one who'd actually had an appointment, stood and made to enter. He paused just before he made his way in, though, sending Homura a grin over his shoulder.

"I still owe you date or something too, don't I?" he said. He rubbed his head again, blushing. "Let me know when, okay?"

Homura didn't answer. Her face was hot. She watched him go into the room and stared at the door when it closed behind his back, separating them.

* * *

**(A/N) **

**Again, a short fic started by one small idea. In this case, the "he gets hard" line, playing off Kirishima's Quirk.**

**This is just the first part. Part Two will be coming along. :)**


End file.
